


Tarnish

by dragonspell



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Derogatory Language, M/M, Restraints, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7323706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scofield’s got a mouth on him that just makes you wonder.  You want to know how it would look wrapped around a dick—any dick, but yours in particular—and if he’d be any good at it.  He looks like he would, looks like the kind of guy that you’d see on a Boystown poster.  Hell, Burrows, too, though he’d be bringing in a different kind of clientele, obviously.  “Now, I wonder,” Bellick says, thinking out loud, “which one of you is the better cocksucker?”</p><p>(Or, episode 2x04 happening a little differently, with Nika having escaped and Lincoln and Michael left alone with Bellick)</p><p>Please mind the tags.  See the notes at the bottom of the fic for further clarification.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tarnish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Entropyrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/gifts).



After working so long in Fox River, Bellick honestly had thought that he couldn’t be surprised anymore. He’d seen it all: the cold-blooded mobsters that ran their operations from the inside just as easily as the outside, the drug addicted gangbangers that shook and sweated and stabbed anybody for a promise of a little powder, the little sissies that cried themselves to sleep and latched onto the first guy that said all they had to do was bend over and everything would be alright. Them and everything in between. He’d witnessed riots and rapes and stabbings.

What he hadn’t witnessed, though, was all the dirty little secrets of Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows. And it had knocked him on his jaded ass.

If he were to take the time and think about it, though, he’d have to admit that maybe he should have guessed. He’d always known that there was something off about Scofield, something not quite right in the head and Linc? Ha, Linc the Sink. Yeah, he was fucked in the head, too. Two sick sons of bitches giving weight to the nature side of that whole nature vs. nurture thing. When both brothers are criminals—one a goddamned murderer no less—and the dad a deadbeat, you can’t help but think that there’s something going on at the genetic level, like it just ran in their blood or something. Something _wrong_.

And this was wronger than most.

Bellick read something once that said that all criminals were, on some level, crazy. That there was something wrong with their brain chemistry or something and that’s what made them go out and commit crimes, unable to keep to the “societal contract”, whatever the fuck that was. Bellick was tempted to agree. Even the seemingly normal ones, the quiet ones, the “I didn’t do it, I swear!” ones, weren’t right in the head. He’d watched over the zoo long enough to see that.

Some just happened to be crazier than others. The murderers. The rapists. The blue-eyed devils that went into prison just to break the fuck back out. Crazy, right down to the core.

When Bellick had gotten an eyeful through the busted out window of the rundown warehouse, it had just about floored him. Scofield, socking it to him one more time. 

See, Bellick and Geary had tracked Scofield and Burrows to an abandoned building, miles from where they’d left Scofield’s little whore, and though it wasn’t much to look at it, it was apparently Burrows and Scofield’s own little piece of heaven. Bellick had been just ahead of Geary and had caught Burrows and Scofield attempting to give each other tonsillectomies with their tongues. They’d broken apart as soon as Bellick had hit the door, but it wasn’t fast enough for Bellick to miss how Burrows had his hands cupped around Scofield’s face like it was true love while Scofield had his mitts all over Burrows’s ass.

Downright _disgusting_. They were fucking _brothers_ for God’s sake.

Geary had missed it, to which he’d thanked God above for saving him from that little brain-busting image after Bellick had told him.

 _Christ_.

Geary left to get them a few supplies, leaving Bellick to watch over the sickos. He can’t wait to get both of their asses back into jail. Hell, maybe Bellick can get his job back after this. If not, then the reward would do just fine, too. A hundred thousand a piece was a pretty nice payday, all in all. Probably nothing compared to what Scofield had been used to before he’d thrown his life away for his useless brother, but more than Bellick would ever see in his lifetime, that was for damn sure.

Fucking Scofield. He’d probably been fucking his brother before his brother had gone out and gotten caught. Must have been why he went through the whole shebang, unable to let go of not only his brother but his incestuous lover too. Bellick looks at the both of them and sneers.

Burrows has got his head down, been at this too long to do otherwise, and they’d brought a set of handcuffs just for him. It was a few years ago, but Bellick still remembers the ox busting a ziptie in half with just a flex. Yeah, Bellick wanted to see him try to bust open a pair of police-issue cuffs.

Scofield, though. He’s sitting there with his head to the side, too-pretty face turned away, but there’s nothing defeated about him. He thinks that he’s going to get out of this. He thinks that he’s better than everyone else—smarter, richer, more educated—but he’s wrong. He’s nothing but a goddamned con as far as Bellick is concerned. A sick, demented felon who likes to fuck his brother.

Sara had certainly picked a winner, hadn’t she? Lured in by Scofield’s pretty face and his lying mouth. He probably doesn’t even feel sorry for what he did to her, ruining her life like he did. And she hadn’t even had a chance, the pervert too far gone on his brother’s dick. Probably had been thinking about sucking Burrows’s cock the entire time he’d been inside, working PI and being kept apart by a fence. 

Bellick wonders if Scofield and Burrows had had any moments in Fox River. Certainly looked like they would have had enough time, judging by how they’d tunneled down and over and out. Fuck, there’d even been that time that Pope had let Scofield into Burrows’s cell un-fucking-supervised. They’d probably been going at it like bunnies.

Scofield’s got a mouth on him that just makes you wonder. You want to know how it would look wrapped around a dick—any dick, but yours in particular—and if he’d be any good at it. He looks like he would, looks like the kind of guy that you’d see on a Boystown poster. Hell, Burrows, too, though he’d be bringing in a different kind of clientele, obviously. It makes Bellick feel sick to even look at them. Fucking perverts.

Yeah, Scofield probably sucks cock real good. Burrows probably does as well, tough guy junkie that he is. He’s probably had to suck off more than a few guys out in the street. “Now, I wonder,” Bellick says, thinking out loud, “which one of you is the better cocksucker?” They both snap their heads up to look at him, Burrows pissed and Scofield alarmed before he smoothes it back into indifference. Bellick grins. So there is something under Scofield’s mask after all. Bellick had liked the look, too. As pretty as Scofield is, he’s even prettier when he’s scared, those big blue eyes opening up so wide and those full lips parted and just a trembling, waiting for someone to slip something in between them.

“You’re a sick son of a bitch, Bellick,” Burrows growls.

“Linc,” Scofield says, trying to stop his brother before he charges forward like a bull. Bellick just grins wider.

“Sure,” Bellick says to Burrows, ignoring Scofield for the moment. He knows a sore spot when he sees one. “And I suppose we’re just going to pretend that I didn’t see you and your brother all over each other like a set of cheap rentboys?” Bellick barks a laugh. “Who’s the sick son of a bitch now?” Burrows looks away, because brother-fucker he might be, even he knows it’s wrong. Shame drops his head and shrinks his shoulders, pulling him back into an image of submission. Like Scofield’s scared eyes, Bellick decides that he likes the look on Burrows. A little bit of obedience transforms him.

"Still you," Scofield says, finding his backbone after his brother seems to lose his.

Bellick pries his eyes away from Burrows and redirects his attention. “See, now Scofield here,” Bellick jerks his thumb towards the man in question, “well let's just say that he's got the face that makes me believe that he'd be a real good cocksucker.” 

Scofield frowns as his eyes slide away from Bellick’s face again, dropping to the floor. Whether Scofield’s offended or if Bellick’s scored a hit, Bellick doesn’t know, nor does he care. It’s not what’s important. “Gets lots of practice during his free time if you get what I'm saying. And he's a college boy,” Bellick adds, smiling as a few websites that he’d visited in the past flit through his mind. Scofield would have fit right in. “Lots of experimenting happening in those dorm rooms. College can be rough, too.” Bellick nods in mock understanding. “Maybe a professor needed a little convincing to give pretty little Michael that A.”

“Keep your sick little fantasies to yourself,” Burrows snaps, his anger predictably rising again. If there is one thing that Bellick is learning from this, it's that the best way to get to one brother is to threaten or say something about the other. Once you know that, you can play the two like fiddles.

“Let's not forget about Linc,” Bellick says savagely. He shifts back to Burrows, wanting to see the man have to swallow his own fire again. Damn near needing it, he wants it so bad. God, it’s almost like Bellick’s got something about that. A, what do you call it, a, a fetish. Weird shit. Kink. Something that makes him want to see Burrows bow his head in shame and admit that Bellick’s the better man—the same thing that makes him want Scofield to look at him with those wide eyes and trembling lips. Right before Bellick feeds him his cock.

Yeah. Yeah, Bellick bets Scofield knows how to suck real good.

“Desperation can make a man capable of all sorts of surprising things, can't it, Linc?” Bellick taunts. His mind’s already kicking up scenarios and he runs with them. “Money's a little short this week, so you go to the landlord and cut yourself a little deal. Just a little bit of sucking to keep a roof over you and your little bro's head for another month, now that's not a bad bargain.” Burrows stares at him, his mouth open. It’s probably disgust that’s on his face. Worry, maybe. All Bellick can see, though, is how damn inviting he looks. 

As far as Bellick knows, no one in Fox River besides Scofield ever had Lincoln Burrows. It’d kind of be like Bellick was first. “Or, being in and out of juvie your whole life,” he adds, heading down another track. “Who knows what sorts of things goes on between those boys in the dark. Maybe end up having to do all kinds of things that little Michael just wouldn't understand.” Bellick shifts a look over to Scofield who’s back to staring at him and laughs. “Or maybe he would.”

Scofield keeps darting his eyes between Bellick and his brother and Bellick wonders if Scofield thinks that some of it just might be true. Scofield’s face is impassive right now, eyes narrowed down into that squint he gets when he’s thinking and Bellick wants to take him out of his head, stop his clever little brain if just for a little bit. “Just a couple of perverts,” Bellick says. Burrows turns his head but Scofield doesn’t flinch. He’s probably proud to be a brother-fucker, too fucked up to know any better. A true pervert because he doesn’t know just how damn sick he is. Thing is, he’s a pervert that’s worth a hundred thousand. Him and his brother. That’s a whole lot of scratch for a couple of lowlifes.

There’s also nothing saying that Bellick can’t collect a little something else, either, now that he thinks about it. There’s no one around to stop him, and ain’t nobody going to trust the word of an escaped con. Nobody would know besides him and the brothers and that’s as good as nobody knowing at all.

Bellick fumbles for the gun, heart pumping when both Burrows and Scofield’s expressions morph into alarm. Oh, yeah. He could get used to that. Finally the damn respect that’s been due him. They didn’t respect him in prison but by God they’d respect him now. He swings it between the both of them, his breath coming short and fast as sheer power rushes through him. Yeah, who’s the big guy now? Ain’t nothing them and their little games can do because Bellick’s got them tied up and he’s got the only gun.

“Easy,” Scofield whispers, because he thinks that he can talk his way out of anything. And, oh, he’s smart alright, but that doesn’t mean anything now, does it? No, right now, he’s nothing but a scared little white yuppie about to go back to prison and get his ass good and reamed like it should have been on day one.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bellick snaps. He points the gun at Scofield, wanting to see Scofield’s eyes go beautifully wide again. Scofield disappoints him, keeping his face neutral despite the fact that Bellick could shoot him in the face and no one but Burrows would give a flying fuck. It still shuts him up, though, so there’s that. Makes him a bit more like his brother because for all of Scofield’s uppity little book learning, Burrows has the street smarts and knows enough to shut his mouth when someone points a gun at him. “I’m in charge here,” Bellick says. “Me, not you. I’ve got the gun, see?” He waves it at Scofield. He likes the feel of it in his hand. “And there’s nothing that you can do—except whatever I tell you to.” 

Bellick half-expects Scofield to have a comeback for that, trying talking him down again at least, but all he does is drop his eyes away, and, oh yeah, that’s fucking satisfying. Seeing clever little Michael Scofield out of words and with no back-up plan, it’s damn good. Bellick stands up and prods a boot at Scofield’s leg. “What?” he taunts. “Got nothing to say to that? ‘Bout damn time.” He looks down at Scofield, with his all too-pretty face and his blue eyes trained on the floor, and likes what he sees. “’Bout time you learned to shut your mouth.” He presses his boot against Scofield’s leg again, this time the toe pressing against the inside. “Saying all those high-falutin words that don’t mean shit. Wait til we get you back to Fox River and the boys in there teach you what your mouth is good for.” Scofield shifts as Bellick presses harder and it’s like blood in the water. Smart ass like him ought to know better. Reacting like that is like throwing out chum in shark-infested waters and Bellick is hungry. So fucking hungry. He deserves to have a little fun, doesn’t he? Doesn’t he?

Bellick kicks at Scofield’s inner thigh, making the man wince and shift the leg away. It spreads him nicely, opens him up, and Bellick’s seen some pornos that start like this, pretty boys all trussed up and looking for some bull to take them for a ride. Bellick’s watched more than a few. And, Scofield—Scofield looks just as good as those little twinks that they tie up and set in front of a camera. Bellick slides his boot along Scofield’s inner thigh towards his groin, and watches as Scofield’s throat works past a long swallow. He wonders if Scofield gets off on this, sick fuck that he is. If he and Burrows have ever done this sort of thing before. Those boys in the pornos always seem to like it. Bellick, he likes watching them.

Maybe Scofield asks for it, asks his big brother to tie him up and bend him over, because he needs to have the control taken away from him for once. And maybe Burrows just spreads Scofield’s legs and goes to town, knowing that there’s nothing standing in his way and that he can take whatever he wants. Maybe he sits Scofield on top of him to do all the work, makes him straddle his thighs and bounce on his cock until Scofield’s all red with exhaustion and Burrows is finally coming in his tight ass. 

Filthy fucking scumbags. Would that be what they would have been doing if Bellick and Geary hadn’t shown up when they did? If Bellick had arrived a little later, would he have seen Burrows buried in his brother’s ass? Probably just a continuation of the long fuckfest they’d been having since escaping Fox River.

“Yeah, boss. You’re in charge,” Burrows’s husky voice tells him and Bellick’s attention diverts over to Burrows, who’s looking straight at him like he shouldn’t be. Burrows knows the kind of bruises that come from making eye contact like that. “You want something, boss?” Burrows asks. Bellick glances back at Scofield who’s still staring at the floor, then comes back. 

Burrows is no twink. He’s thick-necked and broad-shouldered. And there’s something about him that makes you want to know what he’d look like on his knees sucking your cock. Bellick wants that. Burrows is strong, stubborn, undoubtedly good in a fight—and Bellick would like nothing more to see him being a submissive little bitch. One of those muscley giants that the porn studios bring in to reduce to a needy little bottom with chains and whips and big huge cocks.

There’s no submission in Burrows’s eyes as he looks up at Bellick. Just a placid wall. “Still wondering which one of you is the better cocksucker,” Bellick says, looking for any kind of break in Burrows’s expression. “Kind of thinking that Scofield might be, what do you think? Think he’d look good with his lips around my dick? Bet his eyes are real pretty when they’re filled with tears.”

Burrows shrugs like they’re discussing baseball stats and not the whoring of his little brother. “That’s an easy question to answer, boss. I’m better.”

Bellick’s eyebrows head for his hairline. Well, of all the damn things he’d thought he’d hear today, Lincoln Burrows telling him that he’s a good cocksucker wasn’t one of them. The brothers just keep the surprises coming, don’t they? And Burrows, he’s a good actor, sitting there, pretending like he’s not putting on a show, just trying to keep Bellick’s attention away from his baby brother. Bellick wants to see how far this will go. He chuckles. “Don’t know if I can believe that.”

A flick of pink trails along Burrows’s lips, leaving a little wet shine before disappearing back into his mouth and fuck if it doesn’t hit Bellick below the goddamned belt. _Fucker._ “Oh, I’m good.” 

Dirty bastard. Bellick wonders if any of his little stories from before were true. Gets him a little excited to think about it—and, hell, why not? Burrows is offering, isn’t he? And no one ever needs to know. Just Bellick and two cons.

Bellick sits himself down in the chair and spreads his legs with a grin. “Well?” he says, pointing downward. “Get to it.”

Scofield makes a little sound when Burrows moves forward, and fuck if it doesn’t make Bellick harder. Fuck, yeah. He might be getting the best of both worlds here, with Linc the Sink wanting to suck his cock and baby brother Michael making those pretty little sounds as his heart breaks. “Linc.” Scofield’s voice is harsh with disbelief and distress.

“Not the first time,” Burrows admits and settles himself between Bellick’s legs. He looks up at Bellick. “You were a little off about the landlord. It was always worth three months rent.” Scofield’s little gasp makes Bellick’s dick twitch. “Until the fucker wanted to up the price.”

Bellick’s grin grows wider. He knew that he’d been right. Fucking knew it. He runs a hand over Burrows’s shaved head, feeling the hair prickle against his palm. “He want your ass next?”

“Wasn’t going to get it,” Burrows says and leans forward to run his mouth over the bulge in Bellick’s pants. Bellick tips his head back as the feeling of warm wetness soaks through the fabric and, good fucking God, yeah, Burrows apparently hadn’t been lying. He’s fucking good. He’s a good little cocksucker and Bellick’s going to give him exactly what he’s begging for.

“Christ,” Bellick mutters. “You better watch the damn teeth.” He fumbles with his zipper and shoves Burrows’s head back a little to pull himself out. Undeterred, Burrows redirects his attention to Bellick’s hand, skillful tongue sliding over Bellick’s fingers. “Fuck, you so fucking want it, don’t you?” Bellick says. “You fucking want it, you goddamned cocksucker.” Burrows has got his eyes closed, so obviously into it, and Bellick drags him back down. “Yeah, suck it. Suck it.”

Burrows’s mouth is hot and wet as it seals around the head of Bellick’s cock. Bellick arches up into the slick heat and Burrows just swallows him down like he was born for it, not even choking as he goes for the deep throat. “Fucking little whore,” Bellick pants. “Knew you fucking wanted it. Yeah, you fucking love it. Love having my big cock down your throat.”

Bellick grips Burrows’s head to pump his mouth up and down as Bellick’s hips jerk upwards and Burrows just goes with it. Somewhere along the line, Burrows had gotten a porn star’s education. His tongue is doing things that Bellick can’t even comprehend and his mouth is tighter than any pussy that Bellick’s ever had. “Christ, you’re good.” The room echoes with the wet, sloppy sound of his dick fucking Burrows’s mouth and it’s the best damn blow job that Bellick’s ever had. If any of the guys at Fox River had had even a clue, Burrows might have spent his entire time there on his knees because it’s only been a few minutes but Bellick’s going to fucking come, just shoot right down Burrows’s throat. He’s nearly there, his ass leaving the chair every time he thrusts upward.

Burrows chokes, spit coating Bellick’s dick and dripping out of Burrows’s mouth as he fights Bellick’s hold. Bellick tries to force him back down, still chasing the orgasm that’s just out of reach and Burrows chokes again, this time wrenching his head to the side, and Bellick feels teeth for the first time. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Bellick demands. Burrows throws himself to the side, slamming into Bellick’s leg, panting, drool sliding down his chin as he glares up at Bellick. 

“Trying not to fucking die,” Burrows growls. “Jesus, man. You’re fucking my mouth, not my goddamned lungs.” He coughs and then wipes his mouth on Bellick’s pants, leaving a trail of spit.

Okay. So, maybe Bellick was getting a little rough there, but really Burrows should be used to it. He’s probably had worse out on the street. Really, Bellick’s being _kind_ , but okay. The blowjob was pretty damn good and Bellick wants to get back to it, so Bellick just cuffs Burrows upside the head, a little blow for the lip, and drags him forward. “Get back to it, princess.”

Bellick’s thinking that they’ll go back to the thrust and suck rhythm that they had before, but Burrows diverts, turning his head sideways to run his lips over the side of Bellick’s cock. He licks his tongue out to slide up and down and, yeah, that’s pretty good, too. “Yeah,” Bellick groans. He goes along with the instinctive twitch of his hips, but keeps himself a bit more in check than before. At this point, he’s curious to see what other bag of tricks Burrows has because so far he’s proven himself to be rather resourceful.

After all, Burrows had had a pretty nasty drug habit in the past. He’s probably been sucking off drug dealers for years, just dropping to his knees and offering them his mouth when he’s in need of a fix, like the junkie whore he is. No wonder he’s fucking good at it. 

Excepting Scofield, Bellick’s probably the nicest cock Burrows has ever swallowed.

Burrows licks up the underside of Bellick’s cock, then slips back down, letting Bellick’s cock ride along his face. He repeats the motion then comes back up to suck on the head and lick under the ridge. Bellick groans and lets his head fall back. It’s not a good idea to close his eyes, but damned if he can help it. At least Burrows is still tied up and Bellick still has the gun. Burrows dips down, nosing into the opening of Bellick’s pants and Bellick has about half a second of wondering what the hell Burrows is doing before he feels the first soft lick against his balls. Bellick supposes that that’s alright with him. “Fuck, yeah,” he moans. “Yeah, you want those too?” He pulls out his balls and Burrows sucks one into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue before moving on to the other. As far as Bellick’s concerned, he can keep doing that until fucking Dooms Day.

Bellick hears a noise that is neither the wet lick of Burrows’s tongue nor one of his own moans and his eyes flutter open to look over at Scofield. He has to grin. It’s pretty damn satisfying to see that look on Scofield’s face, one of just complete and utter despair because finally—fucking _finally_ —something has happened that Scofield wasn’t prepared for, that he didn’t have some kind of contingency plan tattooed on his ass for, that he couldn’t control. And it’s happening to his precious older brother. Bellick runs his hand over Burrows’s head because he can. “He do this to you, too?” he asks. “Suck your dick when you ask?”

It’s probably a good thing that Scofield’s tied up because Bellick doesn’t think he’s ever quite seen that expression on his face before. It’s complete murder. Bellick’s blood runs a little cold before he reminds himself that he’s got the gun and he’s in charge. 

Burrows pulls away. “Hey, I’m the one that’s sucking your dick, not him.” The attention grab is a lot clumsier than the blowjob that Burrows had just been giving him.

Bellick looks down at him and then back at Scofield, an idea forming in his head. “I think your brother’s feeling lonely, Linc,” he says and Burrows’s eyes narrow pleasingly. “Sitting over there all by himself. Maybe he wants to try my cock, too.”

“ _No_ ,” Burrows growls. He realizes his error and ducks his head back down, teasing his tongue at the slit of Bellick’s cock. Bellick shivers. “I’ll make you come, boss,” Burrows whispers, his tone much more respectful. “Make you come your brains out.” His mouth engulfs Bellick’s dick again, sinking back down until his nose is nearly against Bellick’s pubes. Fucking Christ, but that’s good.

For a moment, Bellick lets himself revel in the feeling of being halfway down Burrows throat. It’s hot and warm, and better than any hooker Bellick’s ever paid for, doubly so because Bellick’s getting it for free. It’s just that he’s not likely to get another chance like this, not with Burrows and Scofield heading back to Fox River, and there’s a few other things he’d like to indulge in, too.

Bellick shoves Burrows back and holds him away. “How about you go give your little brother a kiss?” he suggests. He nods at Scofield, who’s still glaring at him like he’s planning out how he’s going to dispose of Bellick’s body down to the tiniest detail. “Give me a little replay of what I walked in on.”

Burrows lunges forward, trying to get his mouth on Bellick’s dick again and Bellick’s next shove knocks him on his ass. Bellick points the gun at him. “I said kiss your brother. Like you fucking mean it. With tongue.”

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Burrows snarls, all traces of submissiveness burning away with rage. Bellick’s grin widens as he feels another rush of power, knowing that he can control the man in front of him, that all of Burrows’s muscles mean jack shit because Bellick is the one on top. Bellick shifts the gun over to Scofield.

“Do it,” he says. “Or I shoot him.” Both brothers stay put and Bellick considers his next play. “See, you’re both worth a lot of money, but, hey, a shoulder wound ain’t going to kill him. Well, unless I don’t bandage it up. Then he might just bleed out. Still, I imagine there’d be some kind of reward for returning the body.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Burrows says, because all he has are useless threats. That makes them funny.

“Yeah, but how about you go give Mikey a little kiss, first.” Bellick shakes the gun, reminding the brothers of the stakes. Burrows stubbornly stays where he is.

It’s Scofield that caves, giving a little huff and scooting his way over to Burrows. Burrows looks ready to argue but Scofield’s scowl tells him to shut up and he accepts it when Scofield leans in. The kiss starts out gentle and chaste, just a press of lips, but Scofield quickly sullies it with a flick of his tongue that makes Burrows groan and open his mouth so that Scofield can lick out Bellick’s precome. “Fuck yeah,” Bellick says, grabbing his still wet cock. It’s kind of like having his own personal porno, Burrows and Scofield going at it to please him, and he feels like a god. Guy as strong as Burrows, guy as smart as Scofield, and both of them are just subject to his whims. Bellick’s the fucking _king_ as far as they’re concerned right now, and whatever he says goes. 

Because right now, Scofield’s sliding his tongue into Burrows’s mouth because that’s what Bellick told them to do, and Bellick’s already thinking of what he could tell them to do next. And they’d do it. Filthy, incestuous little whores.

“Now how about you do the same to my dick?” Bellick says. The brothers break apart, Scofield still not making eye contact as Burrows glowers at Bellick. Bellick pats his thigh. “Come on, princess. Bring your sister over and get to work.”

There’s another death threat waiting behind Burrows’s clenched teeth, and Bellick wants to hear it for the laugh, but Burrows doesn’t give him the satisfaction. Again, it’s Scofield that moves first, shuffling awkwardly on his knees until he’s in front of Bellick. “Michael!” Burrows snaps, following close behind, likely hoping to get away with sacrificing himself again.

Bellick grips Scofield’s chin and tilts it up, waiting until Scofield lifts his pretty eyes up to meet Bellick’s. “Damn,” Bellick mutters, struck by just how goddamned beautiful Scofield is, like he’s some kind of heavenly creature too good for this mudball that they’re stuck on. Not even the grime and the sweat can take away from him. Bellick presses his thumb against Scofield’s plush lower lip, flattening it against his teeth. “You as good as your brother?” Bellick asks. “Been out there sucking off college boys?” Scofield doesn’t answer, but Bellick doesn’t expect him, too. That would be beneath him, after all.

Anger momentarily seizes Bellick’s limbs and he yanks Scofield forward until he’s breathing in Bellick’s crotch. Bellick rubs Scofield’s face against himself, wanting to dirty the man in front of him somehow and not knowing how he ever could. It makes him angrier. “Think you’re such a big man,” Bellick mutters. “You ain’t nothing. Nothing but a little whore. With your fucking twenty-dollar words, pretending that you’re all high and mighty, but you’re not, are you? Your pretty little mouth is nothing but a goddamned hole for me to fuck, you brother-fucking scum. Fucking dirty, that’s what you are, a fucking comestain—” His cock is engulfed in tight, slick heat again, Burrows already back at work. “ _God in heaven_.”

Bellick’s head lolls to the side and he looks down at where Burrows is attempting to suck his brains out through his cock. He’s not doing a half-bad job of that, either, because Bellick can’t seem to think beyond the feel of Burrows’s mouth. “Hell, yeah. Mmm, fuck…”

Scofield’s just standing there, staring at Burrows, and Bellick pushes his head down because one mouth is good but two is better. Bellick hadn’t even known how good it would feel to have someone sucking at his balls, but now that Burrows has shown him, he’s eager for it to continue. For all of his book-learning, though, Scofield seems a little slow on the uptake, needing to be ground against Bellick’s balls before he gets with the program.

Scofield’s shyer than his big brother, his tongue only giving hesitant little licks rather than Burrows’s confident sucking, but Bellick likes the contrast. It makes him think that maybe Scofield hasn’t had as much practice at it, or maybe it’s taking some time for him to come down off his high horse and join his brother in the gutter. Either way, it’s revving Bellick’s engine, Burrows just going to town on him and Scofield reluctantly following alongside.

These are the two scumbags that made him lose his job, that damn near ruined the lives of everyone that they came in contact with from Sara to Pope, and now they’re down on their knees where they belong. In a way, it’s like Bellick’s getting revenge for everyone at Fox River. He’s a goddamned hero.

And it’s about damn time he got his reward. Bellick’s balls tighten, his hips stutter. “Oh, _fuck, yeah_ …” He pulses up into the tight heat, ready to fucking shoot.

And there’s nothing. Nothing but cold, empty air, but Bellick’s coming anyway. He can’t stop himself. “What the _hell_?” he snarls, grabbing for the men between his legs. He forces his eyes open, sees a whole lot of Burrows and no Scofield, Burrows having pulled back to shield his brother. Bellick reaches for him, hands scrapping along Burrows’s skull but finding no purchase as Burrows shakes him off.

Then it’s over. Bellick’s dick gives a few last, weak jerks, and he’s done. Instead of coming down Burrows’s throat like he should have, his jizz is all over the floor and Bellick’s pants, splattering in little patches of white. “Bastard,” Bellick yells and smacks Burrows across the face with a backhand. Burrows tumbles to the floor, shoulder taking the brunt of the fall with his hands behind his back. “What the fuck was that, huh? Bet you thought that was fucking cute, you fucking piece of trash.” Bellick jumps to his feet and kicks at Burrows, boot landing in Burrows’s stomach. “When I say suck, you goddamned well better suck!” He raises his foot to lash out again, Burrows already shifting to minimize the pain, and he realizes that he’s going about this all wrong. Burrows is used to pain. He’s been beaten his whole life, so what’s a few more bruises or cracked ribs? 

No, if you want to hurt Burrows, he’s not the one you go after. Bellick turns and snaps up Scofield, wrapping a fist in his shirt to drag him just out of lunging distance. Scofield scrambles, his shoes scraping against the floor and his breathing edging into just this side of panicking. It’s music as far as Bellick’s concerned. Burrows groans and pushes himself back onto his knees.

Bellick backhands Scofield, sees a bit of red bloom at the edge of his pretty mouth as Scofield’s head snaps to the side. He wants to repeat the blow, but Scofield keeps his face pressed against the floor, playing the submissive. Bellick yanks him up by his shirt. “Your brother,” Bellick says, giving Scofield a shake. “Your fucking brother, he’s the one who did this to you. Thinks he’s too fucking good, but he’s not.” 

“Bellick!” Burrows bellows. Bellick twists himself and Scofield around, putting Burrows back into his line of vision. “Don’t you fucking touch him!”

“Oh, I’ll touch him alright,” Bellick assures him. “I’ll run my dirty hands all over him. Hell, I’ll fuck him, if that’s what I want, how about that, huh? I’ll let you watch. Would you like that? See my big fat cock tearing his ass apart? Think _he’ll_ like it?” Burrows tries to wobble to his feet. “Stay the fuck down!” Bellick shouts and Burrows goes back to his knees. “There you go.” He looks back at Scofield who’s staring up at him with those same scared blue eyes and Bellick wishes that he had a camera. He wants to record that look so that he can watch it over and over and over again. Show it to all the guys at Fox River and then all the fucking cons that might be thinking that they could follow in Scofield’s footsteps.

Which… Bellick grips each side of Scofield’s shirt and tears them apart, buttons flying to the far corners of the room as Scofield drops back down to the floor and Burrows starts shouting in rage again. “Let me see,” Bellick says, “let me see those fucking tattoos.” He shoves a hand under Scofield’s undershirt and drags it up, revealing a whole lot of ink and skin, intricate lines and details all coming together in a big, convoluted plan to fuck Bellick in the ass. Bellick runs his hands up over Scofield’s chest, pulling at the muscle, letting his fingers dent the skin where they touch. “Fucking freak,” he hisses. “Had somebody draw all over your damn tits, didn't you? How far down do they go, huh?” Bellick pushes under Scofield’s belt. “You tattoo your damn cock, too? Huh? You got some little note scrawled on your balls?” He rips at the belt, prying it open and delving into Scofield’s pants.

Scofield makes a little sound, a little squeak of terror before he gets himself back under control, and if Bellick were a few years younger, he’d be ready to go again from that sound alone. He reaches into Scofield’s boxers to grab a hold of his soft cock.

“Get the fuck off of him!” Burrows yells. 

Bellick smirks at him as he drags Scofield’s cock out. To Bellick’s disappointment, it doesn’t have any tattoos, but it is just as pretty as the rest of Scofield. Bellick wants to see it hard. He gives it a few quick pulls, listening to Scofield’s broken breathing and Burrows’ impotent growls, before holding it up for Burrows. “What do you say, Linc?” Bellick taunts. “Want to help your baby brother out like you did me?”

“ _Bastard._ ”

Bellick chuckles and grabs Scofield, bodily picking him up with a hand under each armpit. He slams Scofield in the chair and parts the thighs that Scofield tries to hold closed. “Or should I just jerk him off? Either way, I’m going to watch him cream himself.” Bellick wraps his hand around Scofield’s dick again, stroking it rough enough to make him hiss and try to squirm away.

“Enough!” Burrows shambles forward to put himself between Scofield’s knees. His eyes promise Bellick a long, slow death, before cutting over to Scofield.

“Hey, Linc,” Scofield says softly, like it’s a private moment between just the two of them.

“Hey,” Burrows replies. “Just don’t…just don’t think about it, okay?”

Bellick rolls his eyes and shoves Burrows’s head into Scofield’s crotch. “Start sucking already.”

Scofield’s pretty eyes slide closed as Burrows gets to it, his soft mouth opening to pant softly, and, yeah, he’s as pretty as a damn picture. His throat works as he swallows and his chest heaves gently under his open shirt. Bellick follows the lines of his tattoo down to where Scofield’s cock is sliding in and out of Burrows’s mouth. Burrows is into it, his eyes closed and his cheeks hollow as he sucks. Such a sick fuck, getting off on blowing his brother. “Make sure you swallow this time,” Bellick tells him.

A few minutes tick by with just the slick sounds of Burrows swallowing dick and Scofield gently panting before Scofield moans, his head jerking to the side. His hips twitch upward, his thighs spreading farther apart, as a few beads of sweat drip down his neck. 

He’s beautiful.

Scofield’s eyes flutter open, just a hint of glazed over blue, then he arches, his chest lifting upward. He gasps, his body shuddering, and Burrows hums as he lets Scofield come in his mouth. Burrows sucks it all down until Scofield collapses against the chair, worn out. They make quite the picture.

Scofield still looks like a damn angel, not a filthy sinner who just got off in his brother’s mouth. Bellick’s wondering what it would take to tarnish his halo.

Bellick pats Burrows on the head like a dog. “You’re a good little cocksucker, Linc,” he says and easily pushes the man over. Burrows glares up at him, still no doubt dreaming about paying Bellick back, but he’s just never going to have the chance.

And he’s tenting his pants. Oh, he really liked sucking Scofield’s cock. “Got a problem there?” Bellick asks, raising his eyebrows in mock concern.

“No,” Burrows denies and brings up a leg to partially hide himself. Bellick walks to the other side of him. 

“Oh, but, you see, Scofield here, Michael, _baby brother_ , I’m sure that he could help you out.”

“Shut the fuck up already,” Burrows growls and rolls to his knees. 

Bellick kicks him back onto his side, making Burrows gasp in pain. “Now, that’s hardly a way to talk to the guy in charge. Whatever happened to the ‘whatever you want, boss’? That was a nice attitude.” Bellick looks over at Scofield, sitting on the chair, legs all akimbo and cock hanging between them as he tries to catch his breath. “How about it, _Michael_? You care to help Linc here with his problem?” Bellick flashes the gun again, reminding them and himself of its presence. “Or are you going to cop an attitude, too?”

Scofield slithers out of his seat without a word. He crosses the small divide between him and Burrows before collapsing on top of him. He presses a few small kisses along Burrows’s neck and licks at the join of his shoulder.

“Oh, now, see, isn’t that sweet? Looks like Mike here wants to make love.” The words are derisive, but Bellick can’t deny that he likes the show. Sometimes he likes to watch the sweet stuff. He plops himself down in the chair and adjusts his still limp cock. Maybe he’ll have another go around in a little bit.

Scofield shifts up and kisses Burrows, tongue licking at Burrows’s lips until Burrows finally gives up and participates. The kiss is soft and gentle and everything that a brother-fucker shouldn’t be. Scofield’s giving Burrows comfort the only way he can and it’s kind of pathetic but at least it’s hot, too, Bellick thinks. Bellick lets them tenderly lick at each other’s mouths for awhile, watching the back and forth, until he decides that he’s seen enough and he’s ready to get the show on the road. “Ain’t got all day, Scofield,” he says.

Effortlessly despite his arms being tied behind his back, Scofield scoots down, pressing kisses and dragging his lips over Burrows’s dirty shirt. He noses at Burrows’s chest, rubbing his cheek along the muscle and going down, down, down, until he reaches Burrows’s belt. Bellick kneads his cock, wondering how Scofield’s going to solve the puzzle because Bellick ain’t about to help. Truth be told, he’d kind of like to see Burrows come in his pants.

Scofield bites Burrows’s belt then moves down to mouth at the hard cock trapped in Burrows’s pants. Burrows gasps and sits up, his stomach muscles contracting. Scofield settles himself in, legs spreading to give himself leverage and kisses Burrows’s cock. Burrows groans. He falls back to the floor and Scofield runs his lips up and down the long line of Burrows’s dick. 

Apparently Scofield had been holding out on Bellick, because there’s nothing reluctant or unsure about how he’s going after his brother’s dick. Maybe it’s only Burrows’s cock that Scofield can get it up for. Maybe he’s that fucked in the head.

Whatever it is, Scofield doesn’t seem to have an issue with soaking the front of Burrows’s pants. They’re both still mostly dressed and it’s hotter than a lot of pornos that Bellick’s seen. “Dirty fucking whore…” he mutters. His dick is slowly rising to half-mast as he watches the scene playing out in front of him. The seat of Scofield’s pants is pulled tight across his ass and Bellick wants to go rub himself along the crack. Maybe he will.

Bellick’s still thinking about leaving the chair when he hears the sound of a car pulling up. Shit. “Geary’s back.” Scofield sits up, kneeling overtop of Burrows. Bellick grabs him, hauling him up and over to the wall. He stuffs Scofield back into his pants and zips him up, grimaces about Scofield’s shirt, and shoves him down. “Stay there.” Burrows takes a little more to get up, but Bellick finally shoves him against the wall, too. His hard-on is fading, but the wet spot’s still there. “Too bad, huh?” Bellick commiserates. Burrows curls his upper lip. “Don’t you even think of opening your mouth,” Bellick warns. “Either of you. Or you’ll find yourself with a gag all the way back to Fox River.” It’s his word against the cons’ but Bellick doesn’t want to even take the chance. People might misunderstand.

Both of the brothers stare at him, eyes hard but mouths thankfully shut and Bellick nods at them. He puts himself in the chair and waits for Geary to come in. Nothing’s happened. Nothing at all.

He meets Scofield’s blue-eyed gaze and wonders just what goes on in the man’s head. What would possess a man to throw his life away for a worthless, murdering brother? What would possess a man to want to fuck that brother? And Burrows, man. His own baby brother. That article had been right. There was just something wrong in Burrows and Scofield’s heads.

Couple of sick fucks that Bellick has here. Sick fucks that need to be thrown back into prison ASAP before they have the chance to ruin anyone else’s life. Burrows will get the chair and with any luck Scofield won’t ever breathe free air again.

All Bellick has to do is get them back to Fox River. Shouldn’t be a problem.

**Author's Note:**

> Non-Con/Rape Warning: This fic is marked as non-con as Bellick coerces both Lincoln and Michael into giving him a blowjob and makes them perform acts on each other.
> 
> A note about Bellick in this fic: This is a circa season 2 Bellick, a possibility for him if taken to an extreme, as the fic was originally conceived while watching season 2. It is not the Bellick that is in the show as he showed up in season 3 and 4, when he was made into a much more sympathetic character and no longer an antagonist (for the most part). This fic is marked as canon divergence for both the obvious divergence from canon and the divergence for Bellick.
> 
> The dirty talk, casual misogynistic references, and derogatory language: Was added because, even if Brad Bellick was portrayed as being a more sympathetic character, I still feel that he would use this kind of language (and does in the show).


End file.
